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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247159">In the Garden of Our Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoFudge/pseuds/IndigoFudge'>IndigoFudge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Dead Eddie Kaspbrak, Death, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Fix-It of Sorts, Gardens &amp; Gardening, Ghost Eddie Kaspbrak, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, The House on 28 Neibolt Street (IT)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:48:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoFudge/pseuds/IndigoFudge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Eddie's entire world comes to a stop.</p><p>He's still slumped against the wall with a hole in his chest, but it's not him. It can't be him, because he is standing up right now, perfectly fine. 'That's not me,' he says aloud, voice scratching. 'That's not me, that's not me, that's not me!' He's panicking, he knows he is, and with a sinking feeling he realizes where the light in the cavern is coming from. It's coming from him - his own skin is emitting a faint glow."</p><p>*</p><p>In which the now empty lot on Neibolt Street is turned into a community garden, and Eddie becomes the lonely ghost that haunts it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Garden of Our Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic does have character death, but in a happy way, I guess? Like the ending is objectively sad, but Richie and Eddie do get a happily ever after.</p><p>TW for emetophobia.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The others leave to go kill It, pity written all over their faces. Bev gives Eddie a quick kiss on the temple - "Hold on for us, honey, alright?" - and Mike squeezes his hand, hard. None of them truly believe that Eddie can survive this; they each look like they've already accepted his death. </p><p>Except for Richie.</p><p>Richie was never one to take things at face value. Even when they were kids, he was always ready to beat the shit out of Pennywise at any given moment, like during the final fight when It was clutching Bill and threatening to kill him. Now is no different.</p><p>"I gotta keep you awake, Spaghetti Man." He crouches in front of Eddie, pressing down on his chest. "Awake and okay."</p><p>"Don't call me that, asshole," grits out Eddie. Blood is smeared across his teeth. "And I think 'okay' is- a little too much to ask for."</p><p>Richie looks to the ceiling for a brief second, tears spilling down his cheeks, before staring back at Eddie. "No. It <em>isn't.</em> You're gonna be fine, man, I promise. We're gonna take you to a hospital and they'll fix you up. They'll wrap you up in so many bandages that Haystack will be afraid of you."</p><p>It's too exhausting to argue, so instead Eddie just nods tiredly; he's fading in and out. White noise fills his ears. <em>Have you ever heard of a deadly chest wound? </em>he thinks, making a smile pull at his lips.</p><p>"Yeah, see? You're alright. Look at me - you're alright." Richie's gaze is pleading, desperate, in denial. He braces his hands on each side of Eddie's face.</p><p>Eddie sighs. With a dulled surge of alarm, he realizes that he can't take in another breath. </p><p>"Eddie? <em>Eds,</em> Eddie, dude- look at me, Eddie, look at me--"</p><p>"Can't breathe, Rich, I think this is it." Eddie groans. "I think I'm..." <em>Dying,</em> he thinks he's <em>dying</em>, but he doesn't want to say it because if he says it then it will be real. </p><p>"You're not <em>fucking</em> dying!" Richie says anyway, voice breaking, and he grabs fistfuls of Eddie's blue jacket. "Come on. I know you like to be all doomsday, 'it's-the-end-of-the-world' and shit, but come on, Eds, you can't- you can't do this to me, you fucking asshole, I just got you back, I just- you have to <em>stay</em>, you have to <em>live</em>, Eddie. <em>Please</em>."</p><p><em>You don't know how much I wish this wasn't happening right now, Richie,</em> thinks Eddie. He leans forward, but the last of his strength leaves him, and his head falls back against the stone wall he's sitting up against. <em>Wow. I always thought dying would be a lot more peaceful.</em></p><p>The last thing he sees is Richie burying his face in his hands, and then Eddie dies.</p>
<hr/><p>Eddie opens his eyes again to find himself in a foggy meadow. It's eerily quiet; any sound he makes is absorbed by the very air. A chill runs up and down his spine. He gets the sense that something is <em>off</em>, but for the life of him, he can't seem to think of what it is. His head is muddy. Any memory that he tries to grasp slips away before he can fully process it.</p><p>Glancing down at himself reveals that he's wearing a black suit. The pockets are empty, save for a handkerchief. <em>Funeral attire</em>, he thinks dimly for no reason at all.</p><p>If he squints, he can make out a single gravestone in the distance.</p><p>The silence breaks suddenly. Eddie stumbles back as tinny circus music rings through the field. But it's not really ringing through the field. It's almost like the music is in his own head, echoing inside his skull. His heart jumps up in his throat.</p><p>"Who died, Eds?" says a voice. Its tone is joyful, but <em>twisted,</em> like there's something evil hiding underneath. "Why, if I were you, I wouldn't want to find out."</p><p>Eddie breaks out into a sprint, calling back blurred memories of running track back in high school. He pushes himself harder as the voice laughs a mocking laugh. <em>Gotta get to the grave,</em> he thinks, panting. Something in him <em>needs</em> to see the name on the stone, needs it the same way he needs air. The laugh changes to a menacing cackle that sounds exactly the same as the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz, which had always scared the shit out of him as a kid.</p><p>A root springs up out of nowhere, sending Eddie sprawling. He feels his ankle twist. As he reaches for it instinctively, he realizes that his outfit has changed; he is now dressed in black shorts and a green polo shirt. </p><p>"Oh fuck, oh <em>shit,</em>" he gasps out. The circus music gets louder and louder. With a start, he looks up and sees that the gravestone is now right in front of him. "Oh <em>fuck.</em>"</p><p>The inscription reads:</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>"Eddie Kaspbrak tried to live, but it wasn't enough.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Eddie Kaspbrak fought until his very last breath, but it wasn't enough.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Eddie Kaspbrak wasn't enough."</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Immediately after he finishes reading it, the words drip and melt away. The entire <em>field</em> drips and melts away similar to candle wax. Eddie brings his hands to his throat, clutching at it as it closes up. And then his vision whites out.</p>
<hr/><p>He awakens with a gasp to pure darkness and Richie's name on his lips. As his eyes adjust, he realizes that he's back underneath Neibolt, slumped against the wall. His first instinct is to get up, but that's not as easy as it seems; it takes several seconds of straining to even move in the slightest bit. And then he comes free, lurching forward and narrowly avoiding doing a faceplant on the dirty cave floor.</p><p>"What the fuck?" he mutters, scrambling to his feet and turning in a slow circle. "Where-"</p><p>Eddie's entire world comes to a stop.</p><p>He's still slumped against the wall with a hole in his chest, but it's not <em>him.</em> It can't be him, because he is standing up right now, perfectly fine. "That's not me," he says aloud, voice scratching. "That's not me, that's not me, <em>that's not me!"</em> He's panicking, he knows he is, and with a sinking feeling he realizes where the light in the cavern is coming from. It's coming from him - his own skin is emitting a faint glow.</p><p>Eddie tries to throw up. Nothing comes out.</p><p>"Oh yeah, because I'm <em>dead!"</em> he cries. "I'm fucking dead!"</p><p>Before he can delve fully into hysterics, he manages to take a deep breath. <em>Okay, I can still breathe,</em> he thinks. <em>That's a plus.</em> But he doesn't have a heartbeat, and he can see clear through his chest to the other side, which is unsettling. He's still dressed in the clothes he died in, bloodstained and torn. And one hand still holds Richie's muddy leather jacket. </p><p>"Richie?" Eddie says tentatively. He's terrified what the response will be - or rather, whether there will be a response at all. "Anyone? B-Ben? Bill? Mikey? Bev? Please, guys, come on, you have to be okay." </p><p>The cavern remains silent. A lump forms in Eddie's throat, and he chokes back a sob. </p><p>"Fuck." He holds out his hands, right hand feeling for the wall against which his body lies. "Okay, so we came down, and-" Slowly, pieces fall into place. <em>I was always the navigator back then,</em> he remembers as he makes his way out back into the main cavern. <em>I can find my way out now, too. I have to. </em>The alternative is too dark to even consider: being trapped underneath a collapsed house for eternity, slowly losing coherent thought as darkness consumes him. Not fun.</p><p>With utmost precision, he walks across the cavern and over into the tunnel they'd used to come down. Or at least it looks like the tunnel. He only gives off so much light, after all, and rubble is blocking what little he can see. </p><p>Eddie runs into a problem only several feet into the tunnel - the way out is obstructed by boulders and debris. He shrinks back into himself, chewing on his lip. "Okay," he says aloud. "That isn't good. Maybe I can..."</p><p>He reaches, attempting to push the closest boulder out of the way, but his hands pass right through the stone. </p><p>Eddie's nonexistent heart jumps up into his throat as he startles back, sinking a little bit into solid ground. The tunnel seems to close in on him. Suddenly he's falling through the rocky floor like it's quicksand. "Help!" But no one can help him. Eddie flounders, moving his limbs as if treading water, somehow managing to avoid sinking further. "<em>Shit,"</em> he splutters, and imagines that the ground is hard again. One hand moves for a handhold to pull himself up and his fingers close around tangible matter. Gradually the tunnel's floor solidifies, and he lies on his back, panting. <em>Ghost physics, and all that.</em></p><p>When he catches his breath, he gets on his hands and knees and visualizes himself moving through the obstacles. His eyes are squeezed shut so he doesn't have to see it; something tells him it would be disorienting. Not that it isn't already disorienting - it feels akin to crawling through sand. Eddie grits his teeth and blindly gropes ahead of him, feeling for open air, and after several minutes he emerges from the stone. </p><p>"Jesus <em>fuck</em>," he says, hands shaking. "Okay, Eds. You can do this." He opens one eye and then the other, and lets out a breath as he sees that the next section of the path is relatively clear. </p><p>Eddie moves along, careful and steady, until he gets to the first well on the way up. This time he focuses on retaining his solidity so he can actually climb. It burns his muscles.</p><p>"Not fair." He frowns, reaching the top and jumping into the graywater. "I'm dead, I shouldn't have to feel pain. That's such a stupid rule." Water laps up against his chest - <em>through</em> his chest, uncannily; rippling past his skin and into the gaping wound, not affecting the amount of blood and grime caked on his shirt or even wetting the fabric.</p><p>The next well, the one with the rope, is more challenging. It's a really long drop. If he suddenly dematerializes, he'll fall all the way to the bottom. Eddie winces as he grabs onto the knotted rope and begins to pull himself up. Each breath shudders in his chest. He's shaking with exhaustion and fear and <em>anger</em>, anger at the clown that took everything from him. As he climbs, it's almost like he's becoming lighter. He reels in that thought and pictures himself floating. <em>Like a balloon,</em> he thinks, scowling at the idea. </p><p>Sunlight filters down through the debris piled on top of the well. Eddie could almost cry with relief. He phases through the splintered wood and stone and spreads his arms. The sun doesn't really warm him, but it's nice to pretend, nice to imagine the sun's rays giving him a hug. At the very least, it means he's <em>free</em>, and can now go back to the Townhouse and try to catch Richie or the others.</p><p>He picks his way through the crumbled foundation of Neibolt House and stumbles onto the dusty lawn. <em>If anyone could see me right now, they'd probably think I was drunk,</em> he thinks bemusedly as he weaves across the grass. <em>Oh well. I don't care. All that matters right now is getting to Richie.</em> A smile grows on his face. Despite his weariness, he breaks out into a jog, running to the gate. He's so close! He's so-</p><p>His body meets a sturdy wall, and he nearly falls on his ass. "Wh-" he starts, squinting. There's nothing there - just the street - but he can't pass. "N-no. <em>No.</em> This can't- this can't be it." A strangled sob rips its way up from his throat. He throws himself forward again, forcing himself against the wall to no avail. "<em>Fuck! Richie!"</em> He's pounding on it with both fists, kicking at it, but nothing makes a difference. </p><p><em>I'm tethered</em>, he realizes, with growing terror. <em>I'm tethered to Neibolt.</em></p><p>Neibolt, the manifestation of his fears. Dirty and disgusting, grimy and haunted and the source of his trauma. Now just a pile of rubble... but Eddie can't leave.</p><p>He finally sinks to his knees and succumbs to tears.</p><p>The sun sets and then rises again. Eddie sits near the invisible boundary, dark circles under his eyes. "You're braver than you think," he whispers to himself. "You're brave... You're braver than you think... You're braver than you think." He pulls Richie's jacket tighter around his shoulders. "You're fine. You're fine, Eds. They'll come back for you."</p><p>But they don't. Days pass; Eddie paces the yard and never tears his gaze away from the street. Sometimes birds will land on the fence. After a couple weeks, Eddie has become pretty good at birdcalls. Every once in a while the birds can even hear him. Who knew? </p><p>He still doesn't fully understand the physics of being a ghost. If he focuses, he can control whether or not he passes through objects. He can't pick things up or make much of a difference in the physical world (though if he spends long enough trying he can shake the fence). Maybe it's because he's not an experienced ghost, or maybe there are more legends out there than truths about what ghosts can actually do. Either way, it fucking sucks.</p><p>A month goes by. Eddie keeps track by watching a sunflower grow. The seed must have blown into the yard or been carried in by a bird, and he's grateful, because otherwise he wouldn't have a way to tell approximate time in here. "It's lucky I went through that gardening phase in my 20s so I know the growing rate of a sunflower, huh?" He talks to himself a lot. It helps keep him centered. He also sings. His favorites are <em>Africa</em> by Toto and <em>Pompeii</em> by Bastille, because they remind him of Richie.</p><p>At around the four month mark, people come. They aren't the first people Eddie's seen since he died - the occasional kid will come walking down the street after school - but it's still a breath of fresh air. He watches with wide eyes as a team of adults bring trucks and start to clean up the rubble, each person wearing a vest and most of them looking like volunteers who have no idea what they're doing.</p><p><em>What </em>are<em> they doing?</em> Eddie thinks as a week passes. The foundation is cleaned out and filled in with dirt. Benches are brought in, stones are laid on the ground, and small saplings are planted. When the workers arrange flowers in beautiful patterns, Eddie snaps his fingers. "A garden!" he exclaims. "They're turning Neibolt into a garden!" His cheeks grow wet with tears; he presses hands to his mouth. It's come full circle - where death once reigned, life now blooms. </p><p>He hovers for the next week, trying his best to assist in any way he can - helping to lift heavy statues, whispering words of encouragement into the ear of a tired-looking teenager. The kid perks up slightly before sighing and continuing her work. It makes Eddie grin that he can still have an impact on things, no matter how small.</p><p>By the time the garden is finished, Eddie has learned how to pick things up. He makes his presence known on the day of the ribbon cutting by lifting a garden gnome in the air. Just for fun, he also calls out "Take that! I <em>am</em> enough!" </p><p>The crowd of people gasps and whispers amongst themselves. Eddie's mouth falls open. </p><p>"Oh, wow, I didn't realize you could hear me that well. Uh..." An idea forms in his head; he considers it. It may not work, and even if it does, there are so many things that could go wrong. But he doesn't really have much to lose now.</p><p><em>Here goes nothing</em>, he thinks, making one request:</p><p>"Bring me Richie Tozier."</p>
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